


I'm Not As Think As You Drunk I Am

by turquoise_cookie



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Angst, Drinking, Drinking Games, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, I suck at tags, M/M, New Year's Eve, Patrick is really angsty in this fic, Pete's drunk, There's barely any brallon in this sorry, Well sort of I guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-16
Updated: 2016-01-16
Packaged: 2018-05-14 09:22:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5738239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turquoise_cookie/pseuds/turquoise_cookie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete and Patrick are at a New Year's Eve party. Pete's an affectionate drunk, and Patrick has to drive him home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Not As Think As You Drunk I Am

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I know it's a bit late for New Year's but I only just got round to editing this to a point where I'm actually pleased with it :P
> 
> This is the first fanfic I've uploaded ...ever, eek
> 
> Tell me what you think! :)
> 
> Thanks to my friend sodunwithyou for reading this and being really supportive and all that :)
> 
> Tumblr: penguins-in-turquoise-scarves

Patrick wished he could live in this moment forever. It was New Year's, and everyone was happy, if a little (or in some cases, more than that) drunk. In fact, if he was able to bottle this feeling, and get it out and consume a bit when life wasn't so great, even if that was as much as he could hold onto of tonight, that would be more than enough.

Patrick exhaled happily and relaxed into the sofa he was curled up on, taking another sip of the drink he was nursing. As designated driver, he wasn't allowed to drink very much; however, tonight felt like something special that he would want to be able to remember, the whole world suspended in anticipation of what the new year might bring, so he didn't really mind that he wasn't as drunk as he might have otherwise considered getting. Andy never seemed to have a problem enjoying himself despite never touching anything alcoholic, and Andy was normally extremely quiet and shy, so clearly it was possible to lighten up a bit without relying on alcohol.

Lifting his fedora for a second to adjust his blond/brown/ginger/whatever-you-want-to-call-it hair, his eyes landed on Pete across the room, and he chuckled. Pete was, fairly predictably, completely wasted; and Patrick was pretty sure that he was having a drinking competition with Joe, from the amount of liquor that Brendon kept pressing into their hands the second they downed the contents of their cups. Dallon sat on the sofa behind them, a beer in his hands and a smile on his face as he watched the three behaving like idiots - even though that was nothing new.

Patrick tried not to roll his eyes. Sure, those guys were so drunk it was beginning to be a little bit concerning, but he wasn't sure when he last saw Pete this happy, so he decided to leave him be for the time being. Instead he began to fantasise about what the new year might have in store. He hoped that it would be better than the last year - he always did, even when the last year was a pretty good year; and although this was more or less the case this time around, there's always room for improvement.

The sound of Pete bolting for the bathroom and almost falling over in the process broke his reverie, and Patrick looked up to see Joe raising his heavily tattooed arms, victorious. (Boy was Patrick looking forward to driving those two home right now.) Brendon sank onto Dallon's lap, looking incredibly pleased with himself, and Dallon immediately wrapped his arms around him and drew him in, placing a kiss in his hair. Patrick sighed. That was something else he was secretly hoping for this year - ever since Dallon and Brendon announced their relationship a few weeks ago, Patrick couldn't help feeling a pang of envy every time he looked at them together, silently crying out for someone who would so much as look at him like that.

Although, hoping for a stable relationship, even though it was what Patrick really wanted more than pretty much anything, was kind of like hoping that a sunset admired you back, since the guy he was hopelessly in love with just so happened to be the one heaving into a toilet at this precise moment. Patrick could swear that Pete hadn't even looked at him since they had arrived. God, why did he even like him? He was a hopeless case. Sure, he did things sometimes that made Patrick's heart melt - and that's not to even start on how hot he was - but that didn't mean he would ever like him back.

Woah, Patrick, start your year on a high note, why don't you.

The entire party gathered in the back yard a little while before midnight, as the guy whose party it was - whose name Patrick couldn't quite remember at that moment - was going to let off fireworks. Well, yard was most certainly not the word for it; the house was huge, and even in the darkness you could tell that much the same could be said for the garden. Somehow Patrick ended up next to Pete, who was oddly quiet in spite of the amount of alcohol in his system (Pete was not normally a particularly quiet drunk), instead looking up at the stars, his bleached blond hair reflecting the light in a manner that Patrick couldn't help but admire. Patrick supposed that it was just something in the air that night, so peaceful and still, and altogether so perfect, that caused even the people who were so drunk they'd forgotten where they were and why they were there to stand up and take notice.

Someone started a countdown, and Patrick's heart grew gently warm with anticipation. He barely even noticed when Pete stepped closer to him and leaned on his shoulder, and the arm Patrick put around him was all but subconscious, his attention instead on the clear night sky.

The countdown hit zero, and fireworks exploded into the air in a brilliant burst of noise and colour, perfectly on cue. However, Patrick hadn't had a chance to look at them for more than a couple of seconds when Pete grabbed him by the jaw and pressed their lips together.

Patrick froze in shock. He totally hadn't been fantasising about this or anything, no, not at all - but now it was actually happening, and the sparks that Patrick felt all over his body were certainly giving the fireworks behind them a run for their money. After a couple of seconds, Patrick found himself melting into the kiss, although his head was screaming at him that it was just the alcohol that made Pete decide to spontaneously make out with him. Well, whether it was the alcohol or not, it wasn't going to stop Patrick from enjoying it - in fact, it made him all the more determined to, in case he never got another chance.

After what felt like forever but also nowhere near long enough, Pete pulled away, laughing at the confusion on Patrick's face before disappearing into the crowd of people.

~~

A little while later, Patrick decided to leave, because he was feeling pretty tired and his passengers didn't look like they were going to stop drinking any time soon, and they were rowdy enough as it is. He also wanted to go home and think about the fact that Pete had kissed him, because oh my God, Pete had kissed him.

To confirm his suspicions, Pete and Joe were not especially pleased at being dragged away, even if it was going to be nearly two am before he could get them home.

"Triiiiiick, why do you always do this? Drag me away when it's just beginning to get good," Pete whined, his words slurring.

Patrick decided to put it bluntly. "Because I'm tired and you're drunk."

"I've told you time and time again, I'm not as think as you drunk I am!"

Joe vigorously nodded his agreement, with a loud belch for emphasis.

"Well, I still think you could do with some rest," Patrick insisted, pretending Pete hadn't messed up the structure of that last sentence. Arguing with Pete about whether or not he was drunk was dangerous territory, as Pete had a tendency to get aggressive when he was drunk and convinced he was right.

Pete was the last person he got home, and Patrick had to practically carry him upstairs, he was so out of it.

He decided to stay and help him get to bed, and although he told himself that it was just so that he could make sure Pete actually made it to his bed, he couldn't deny the thoughts racing through his head as he helped him out of his sweaty clothes and into a clean pair of pyjamas. Pete was his best friend, and Patrick had seen him naked far more often than he was willing to admit, but that didn't in any way, shape or form mean that it had lost its appeal. If anything, being friends with Pete made everything so much worse; to be able to see but not touch, and experience all the highs and lows but only be able to congratulate and comfort as was befitting of a friend, albeit a good friend, made Pete seem so far off to Patrick, despite spending so much time with him - it made sure he remembered how impossible it was for Pete to like him like that.

Not that it wasn't anyway, of course. Patrick was even smaller than Pete, and had always battled with his weight, and that made him insecure and likely to shrink into himself. Pete hid all of his insecurities behind a loud appearance and fought his feelings of never quite fitting in by doing crazy things, which made Patrick seem so much more insignificant in comparison. Although Patrick wasn't really that quiet of a guy, pretty much everyone was quiet next to Pete (with the possible exception of Brendon), and especially so when they hung out with him a lot. It sometimes made Patrick wonder if Pete could even see him from behind his mask, let alone notice enough to care about him.

However, as Patrick turned to leave after he finally got Pete to go to bed, Pete called out his name.

"Patrick?"

Patrick turned. Pete's voice hadn't been loud, nor had his words been particularly slurred: he sounded tired more than anything, and his voice was so, so quiet, almost like he was shy, except for the fact that he was Pete Wentz and he didn't do shy.

"Yes, Pete?"

"...Thank you."

Patrick couldn't stop the smile that snuck onto his face.

"That's okay, you get some rest now, alright? Goodnight, Pete."

He turned to leave again, but once again he was stopped.

"Patrick?"

"What is it?" Patrick's voice was gentle, although he wondered whether he might become irritated soon, were Pete to keep this up.

But what he heard next melted Patrick's heart.

"Don't leave... Please?"

Patrick caved. "Alright," he said, taking off his glasses and climbing into bed next to Pete because he really needed to sleep.

Pete wrapped his arms around Patrick, causing him to draw air in sharply, then hope Pete didn't think he'd done something wrong. He tried to ignore the butterflies in his stomach and melt into Pete's touch, but his racing thoughts wouldn't leave him alone.

It was the alcohol, he tried to remind himself, but everything about kissing Pete had been so perfect, the way their mouths fit together like they were made for each other. Blood pulsing through Patrick's body at at least twice the normal rate as Pete gently tugged at his lip with his teeth. Patrick couldn't help it, he borderline moaned at the memory of it.

When Patrick finally dared look over a few minutes later, Pete was fast asleep, worn out from the late night and the alcohol.

~~

Patrick woke up to early afternoon sunlight pouring in through the window (he never had been one for mornings), and he blinked furiously as he put on his glasses, trying to remember how he'd ended up here. The bed was empty next to him, but the sheets were all messed up on the opposite side, and this was definitely Pete's room not his, judging by the mess if nothing else.

It didn't take long for all the night's memories came back to him, and he desperately tried to persuade himself that the kiss had meant nothing.

He found Pete in the kitchen taking aspirin. "Head not too good then?" Patrick teased, adjusting his fedora which he of course was wearing despite only being at Pete's house.

"Mmmmmm."

"Seriously though, how are you doing?"

"I'm okay, apart from my head. Can't remember much of last night though."

"What can you remember?" Patrick couldn't help himself; he needed to know whether the kiss was just Pete's drunkenness or something more, even if it killed him.

"This and that, odd sketches of scenes. I think I probably threw up at some point." He winced as he saw Patrick nodding as though to say "yeah, you did". "I do remember a couple of things fairly vividly though," he said.

Patrick raised his eyebrows. "Oh?"

"I remember you putting me to bed, and how little convincing it took to get you to join me," he said, a teasing edge to his voice. Patrick blushed. Pete stepped closer to Patrick, even though they were fairly close already. "I also remember how you reacted" - he closed the gap even further, until his nose was gently brushing Patrick's - "to this."

He took Patrick's face in his hands, angling it slightly upwards as he connected their lips, and Patrick forgot how to breathe, how to think, how to act in any other way than to pull Pete closer and deepen the kiss, exploring Pete's mouth with his tongue. He could still taste the alcohol on Pete's breath, but at this point he was way beyond caring, even when his fedora fell off as Pete's hands moved to tugging gently at his hair. The guy he loved, the guy he thought he would never stand a chance with, with his perfect bleach blond hair and gorgeous brown eyes and tanned, toned body, actually liked him back, somehow; he didn't know how, but right now didn't care, because he was melting like ice cream in the sun into this kiss, except unlike melted ice cream, this was the best thing that could possibly happen ever, and Patrick never wanted it to end.

In short, it was perfect.


End file.
